


Spirit of the Law

by clgfanfic



Category: MacGyver (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An epilogue to the MacGyver episode "The Tough Boys."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirit of the Law

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine MacGyverisms #1 and later in Quicksilver & the Black and Black Ops #6 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

          "Anthony Manuel Lopez.  Please stand."

          Placing his hands against the smooth blond grain of the defendant's table, Manny rose.  Just behind the small partition separating the courtroom proper from the gallery, MacGyver watched his friend's progress with a concerned expression.  Manny was walking an unsteady tightrope, and MacGyver and the large black man sitting next to him had promised they'd see the detective across to the other side.

          Watching a tremor track across Manny's shoulders, Mac silently hoped what waited for the detective was worth the struggle.

          "Detective Lopez, it is the responsibility of this court to uphold the letter of the law, while at the same time recognizing that extenuating circumstances can make that a most difficult task if the court is also to be true to the larger spirit of the law.  Your case has placed this court in such a quandary.  As a direct result of your actions two men have died.  However, the nature and circumstances of those deaths…"

          Manny felt something deep inside break.  The sounds of the judge's voice faded in the resulting din into an incomprehensible babble.  The edges of his vision darkened.

          He was responsible for two men dying, one of them a drug dealer, the other an innocent.  Coco was a good kid who'd put his act together and was trying to make a positive difference.  Everything Manny had wanted for his daughter Coco had somehow managed.  But Coco was dead, and it was Manny's fault.

          A coldness whipped through his gut.  They were all gone.  His father, mother, brother, even his wife – the final divorce decree just another formality since Joan decided to admit herself to a mental hospital in hopes of salvaging something out of her sanity and her life.

          Had it always been that bad?  The man sought frantically for a good memory, latching on to the fragments of a life and career lived only in the hopes of helping make a difference.

          When he'd married Joan, Manny had just returned from Vietnam.  He joined the LAPD, fulfilling a childhood dream to follow in his father's footsteps.  Joanie had understood him then, had realized Manny wanted to help his people, his community.  The job took more and more of his time, but it was necessary if the young Hispanic was going to make detective – even in the 1970s there were racial barriers.  When he finally received his gold shield Manny was riding high, but Joan had already begun her descent to the bottom; she'd started drinking.

          Marcia was born.

          Manny's hours grew longer, more erratic.  Joan's alcoholism went unnoticed, except by Marcia.  Marcia.  His little angel.

          _Why, baby?  Why?_ he asked silently.

          In junior high she started experimenting with drugs.  By the time she was fifteen she was an addict.  It wasn't until she was arrested for shoplifting that Manny had a clue something was wrong.  He was confused.  Why hadn't he seen it sooner?  Why hadn't Joan noticed the changes in the girl's behavior?  Why hadn't she said something?  Why was this happening to his family?  He loved them, gave them all he could.  Why?

          When Manny finally stopped to look for the answers what he found was a alcoholic wife, too lost in her own addiction to see one in her daughter, and Marcia was hooked on crack.  Turning down a promotion to Lieutenant, Manny resigned and moved the two women he loved to a new environment, a small farm in a tiny Nebraska community.

          Their savings dwindled rapidly, but Joan seemed to recover with the attention, re-emerging as the woman he'd married.  They watched their daughter carefully, trying anything they could think of to turn her mind away from the drugs that threatened to destroy her.  He bought her a horse, a car, and finally a room in a private hospital after she tried to kill herself.

          The doctors discovered their seventeen-year-old daughter was pregnant.  Joan started to drink again.  Six months later, Alisa was born, crack addicted just like her mother.  Three weeks after the birth of their granddaughter, Marcia successfully took her own life.

          Joan's resulting breakdown estranged the pair, and Manny was given custody of the infant.  The hatred he felt for the men who'd supplied the poison that destroyed his family took control of his thought, his life, and Manny returned to Los Angeles, determined to do something about it.  No one else was going to suffer the way he had.

          He heard about the Challenger program, met Cynthia, and finally R.T. Hines – retired marine captain Ruthford Thomas Hines, his old unit commander in Vietnam. The man was back in his old neighborhood, trying to save kids like Marcia.  Manny petitioned for reinstatement to the narcotics division, and, with his impeccable record, was welcomed back with open arms.  In his off hours he worked with Hines, helping the kids at the youth center.  Good kids, kids who were street tough and well trained by Hines in the martial arts.  Kids who _wanted_ to make a difference on the streets.

          The Tough Boys had already formed when Manny discovered them and their activities – harassing pushers, stealing dope and destroying it, and generally policing their streets.  He scaled up their activities, bringing in the knowledge he'd acquired during two tours in Vietnam and a successful career in narcotics.  The possibilities began to form.  With the Tough Boys he would take back the streets.  The pushers would not get another Marcia to destroy.

          The judge droned on.  "…Death is a tragic event, regardless of the victim…"

          _It was a mistake!_ he screamed at himself.  _A damned stupid mistake!  They were kids, just kids… like us, in Vietnam.  Kids.  Stupid, stupid, kids.  We didn't know any better.  Didn't know the killing would—_

          His lawyer's hand, closing on his wrist, jerked the ex-detective out of his jungles and back to the courtroom.

          "...It is therefore the decision of this court to show leniency in this case.  Anthony Lopez, you are hereby remanded to the custody of a duly appointed representative of the Phoenix Foundation.  You will enter treatment with a state certified psychologist or psychiatrist, the therapy lasting for as long as that practitioner deems necessary.  You will be confined to the state of California for a minimum of twenty-four months, after such time a hearing will be held to review the progress being made.

          "You will be assigned a probation officer for no less than seven years.  You are herewith released from your position in the Los Angeles police department and will not hold employment in any law enforcement agency from this day forward, nor will you be permitted to own or carry a firearm."

          The facts crashed in on top of the rubble of Manny's already collapsed world: probation… stripped of his shield… remanded to custody.

          They were going too easy on him!  He deserved to go to jail.  He deserved to die for what he did to Coco.  To Joan… to Marcia.

          "As for the infant, Alisa Marcia Lopez, the child will be placed into the care of the Los Angeles Child Protective Services…"

          Blackness squeezed Manny's vision further, constricting it to the incomprehensible pattern woven through the courtroom carpet.  They were taking Alisa away?  His grand-baby?  Marcia's daughter.  But she needed him.  Marcia needed him, but Marcia was dead.  So was Coco…

          Manny swayed.

          The judge's gavel pounded and MacGyver and Hines moved to stand on either side of the ashen-faced man.

          "Come on, Manny, let's get out of here," MacGyver said softly, slipping an arm around the man's trembling shoulders.  The glazed, emotionless look in his friend's eyes worried him, but there would be time to talk once they were away from the courthouse and back in familiar surroundings.  There was a lot Mac had to say.  It wasn't as bad as it sounded.  He had already gone to Pete.  The considerable weight of the Phoenix Foundation, not to mention Hines, Cynthia, and the Challenger program, and Manny's captain, had all descended upon the courts, doing everything in their power to see to it justice was truly served.  Mac felt it had been.  The trick would be to convince Manny.

          Together, MacGyver and Hines escorted Manny out of the courthouse, past the gathered press, into a Los Angeles mid-afternoon.  After a sharp retort from R.T., the press faded back and the threesome descended the steps to the sidewalk.

          MacGyver scanned the street for the ride he expected to meet them, finally spotting the approaching van climbing the hill toward them.  "Come on, Manny.  It's going to be okay.  You're going to get through this."

          "One day at a time, Manny," R.T. reminded him. "That's all it's got to be right now."

          Lopez looked at the pair, but didn't respond.  Allowing them to lead him closer to the curb, Manny let his thoughts wander until a flash caught his attention and he focused on an old, beat up brown LTD approaching.  A second flash confirmed the men inside were armed.  A part of the detective's body screamed at him to move, but his mind refused.  His gaze locked on one of the gun barrels, then flicked to the eyes of the young Hispanic holding it before he saw the flash explode and felt the bullet enter his body near his left hip.

          Hines and MacGyver both started, the ex-Marine jumping to push several people down onto the sidewalk as a second shot tore through Manny's shoulder.  The ex-detective's body wrenched backward, then jackknifed forward to compensate.  Screams echoed over the confusion.  Manny stood his ground, blood already beginning to run down his leg and pool at his feet.

          MacGyver lunged, grabbing for his friend, but Manny shoved him away a moment before the third shot roared from the car.

          As he fell, Mac realized he would have been killed if it weren't for the detective's quick reflexes.  Collapsing on the concrete, he rolled, watching as Manny's chest bubbled red.  The force of the shot had thrown the detective back against the courthouse steps.

          The LTD swung out into the on-coming traffic, barely missing the van MacGyver had been watching, and raced off down the street.

          Hines and MacGyver scrambled over to the fallen man on hands and knees.

          "Manny?" Mac questioned as he stripped his jacket off to use as a compress for the chest wound.  "Hang in there, man," he choked as the vacant black eyes slid shut.

          "Mac?"

          Blinking the tears from his eyes, MacGyver looked up to find Carson Daniels standing over him.  "My God."  She dropped to her knees beside the pair and began working to slow the bleeding with direct pressure to the wounds.  "He just stood there.  Mac, he just stood there."

          MacGyver nodded, helping the woman.  In the background, he could hear Hines keeping the gathering crowd back, but the approaching cry of a siren drowned out the onlookers' words.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "We might need to talk to you again," the young detective said, pocketing the notebook he'd been scribbling down information in.  "And you'll have to stop by to look over your statements and sign them.  Tomorrow should be fine."

          "We won't be going anywhere," R.T. said half-sarcastically.

          "Thank you," MacGyver said, eager to get to the hospital.  Carson had followed the ambulance with the promise she'd call if she heard anything.  "Come on," he said to Hines.

          The black man followed MacGyver to the parking garage, but stopped short of Mac's old pick-up truck.  "I'll meet you at the hospital," he said.

          "Where are you going?" Mac asked.

          "To see if I can find Angel and Sinclair."

          "You don't think they had anything to do with this, do you?" he questioned suspiciously.

          Hines' jaws ground.  "They might.  I haven't seen either of them since Coco's funeral.  The least they could've done was stuck by Manny.  He needed them."

          "They're kids," MacGyver argued.

          "They're young men."

          Shaking his head, Mac unlocked the door.  "Well, I'm going to go see if my friend's alive."

          "Look, MacGyver," Hines snapped.  "Manny's my friend, too, and I want to know who the hell shot him.  If I wait, the trail's going to get cold.  These are my streets.  I can talk to these people."

          Mac climbed in, shut the door, and rolled his window down.  "I know.  Look, I'm sorry.  That wasn't fair."

          A small smile lifted the anger off the ex-marine's face.  "Yeah, well, I guess you and I have been underestimating each other all along, haven't we?"  MacGyver nodded.  "I'll meet you at the hospital."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          MacGyver leaned back against the overstuffed couch and closed his eyes.  He was mad, and frustrated, and exhausted.  Fourteen hours.  He'd been going on adrenaline and hope for fourteen hours.  He concentrated on the soft classical music playing on the hospital's speaker system and let it calm him.  He opened his eyes.  In fact, ever since he'd arrived at the Holistic Medical Center called Summit, he'd felt better.

          _But that doesn't make any sense_ , he thought.  _It must be Kauffman.  I trust Kauffman.  He'll pull Manny through_.

          The ambulance had taken Manny to Good Samaritan Hospital where he was sent directly to surgery.  After an hour the hospital had informed MacGyver and Carson that they'd sent for a specialist.  Dr. Arnold Kauffman arrived and disappeared without a word.

          The man looked more like a walking teddy bear – short, round, with large pale blue eyes – than a surgeon, but MacGyver didn't care what he looked like, so long as he could help his friend.

          Three hours later Kauffman emerged and explained that he was having Manny transferred to the hospital where he was head of surgery as soon as the man stabilized.  It wasn't until they arrived at Summit that MacGyver discovered it was a holistic health facility.

          At first he was skeptical, but Carson explained that Summit had an amazing track record.  "In fact, if it wasn't for these people, I wouldn't be alive, and I sure as hell wouldn't be walking," she added, patting her shapely jean-covered hip.

          MacGyver stared at the Phoenix Foundation employee.  Carson Daniels had been one of their best field operators, very much like Mac himself, but a shot that had shattered her right hip had abruptly ended her career.  Now she ran several training programs for Foundation employees.  If she had faith in the place, the least he could do was reserve judgment.

          He glanced at the clock.  Manny had been admitted four hours ago, just as Hines had arrived – Good Samaritan had told him where they were.  Mac asked if he had found the boys.

          Hines shook his head.  "They've dropped out of sight.  Even Hector hasn't seen them in the last few days."

          "You believe him?"

          Hines shook his head once again.  "But I believe Hector's mother."

          The threesome began another vigil, but fear continued to badger MacGyver.  The ex-detective was not prepared to deal with something like this right now.  The look on Manny's face filled the blank wall Mac was staring at.  The look was resigned, calm.

          _Manny wanted to die!_ he realized, suddenly mad at the man.

          "MacGyver," Hines said quietly.

          Mac blinked away the image of his friend and stood to meet Kauffman, the grim set of the man's features doing nothing to alleviate the man's skyrocketing concern.

          "You're friends of Mr. Lopez?"  The two men nodded.  Carson stepped back, unsure of her position.  "Does he have any family?"

          MacGyver shifted uncomfortably as he explained.  "No, not really.  He and his wife are divorced.  She's in the Midwest."

          "We're his family," Hines added.

          Kauffman regarded the two men for a moment before he said, "Let's walk down to my office so we can talk."

          MacGyver motioned for Carson to accompany them, and she smiled her thanks.  She might not know Manny personally, but his story had touched her, and she was definitely going to be a part of his life if he survived – whether he liked it or not.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          After waiting for the threesome to fill their mugs with hot herb tea and get settled, Dr. Kauffman began.  "I'll be frank, people.  Mr. Lopez's chances are not good."  He waited for the news to register on their faces before continuing.  "The shoulder wound was really no problem, nor for that matter is the wound Mr. Lopez sustained near the pelvic inlet.  We borrowed the talents of a fine orthopedic surgeon, Allison Richards.  She's down here on loan from San Francisco, and she assured me that with some follow up physical and holistic therapy those injuries stand a good chance for a complete recovery.

          "And the chest injury wasn't as critical as we first thought.  The bullet entered between the fifth and sixth ribs, at an angle."  He pointed, demonstrating on himself as he spoke.  "If it had been straight on, Mr. Lopez would have died at the scene.  But, with the deflection such as it was, the bullet traveled along the costal grove and lodged against the scapula.  Now, we had to clean that up and repair some damage, but all in all it wasn't what we were expecting."

          MacGyver sat forward, questions already forming but the doctor held up a hand to stay them off.

          "He's presently listed as 'critical, but stable' at this time."

          "But that sounds pretty good, Doctor," Hines said, his forehead wrinkling in concern.  He shifted uncomfortable in the leather chair, hesitating before he added, "Why the poor prognosis?"

          Dr. Kauffman ran a hand over his curly, but thinning gray-brown hair.  "I've been practicing medicine for nearly forty years, the majority of them here in Los Angeles.  I've seen people beaten, shot, stabbed, and all of them fighting to cling to the last thread of life, but Mr. Lopez isn't fighting.  He's already given up, and that, in addition to his injuries will kill him if we can't intervene."

          "Manny might want to give up," MacGyver argued, trying hard not to recall the expression on the man's face.  Manny wouldn't just give up.  He couldn't.  It wasn't right somehow.  "But I won't believe that down deep, he really wants to die."

          "I don't know," Hines countered.  "He's been through hell the last few years. Maybe this is easier than facing all that _and_ an uncertain future."

          "In either case, he's _not_ trying now," Kauffman interrupted.  There was some sort of friction between the two men, although they seemed to care about one another, and certainly about Lopez.  He looked past the pair at the woman who was seated on the small couch Kauffman used to nap on, trying to decipher her role.  She seemed overly guarded. Perhaps Mr. Lopez was a colleague.  He sighed.  "I came to this hospital because I believe that there are some things about medicine that can't be taught in textbooks, or cured through surgery and drugs, or any other traditional therapy.  To put it bluntly, Manny Lopez is dying.  I've sent for another doctor."

          "Some kind of specialist?" Hines asked.

          "Yes.  A psychologist and MD.  She works with trauma patients.  Her name's Amelia Poe."

          "I've met her.  The Phoenix Foundation uses her for some trauma consults," Carson said.

          "I've also heard some of her techniques border on voodoo," MacGyver added. "I don't think Manny needs another shrink right now."

          Dr. Kauffman's eyebrows climbed.  "At this point I'll take voodoo if it keeps that man fighting."

          MacGyver frowned.  Manny was a good man, and a good friend, but he needed medicine, not metaphysics.  "I want that, too, Dr. Kauffman.  Manny deserves a chance to salvage something out of all this."

          "I think Dr. Poe is the best shot he has.  He needs something medicine has yet to develop a drug or procedure for… hope."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "You should get some sleep," Hines told MacGyver as they walked out of Summit.

          "I want to go look my statement over and sign it first."

          R.T. nodded.  "I'll drive."  MacGyver tossed him the keys to the pickup.

          "Look, I'm going to check in at home, then I'll come back here," Carson said.

          "I'll see you this afternoon," Mac said.  "Hang in there."

          Carson nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Where are we going?" MacGyver asked after the pair left the police station.

          "I want to see if Hector's heard from Angel and Sinclair."

          "Are you still on that?  I'm telling you, those kids _didn't_ shoot Manny."

          The black man turned an angry scowl on MacGyver.  "Has it occurred to you that I might have reached that conclusion?  And that if they didn't, some other kids from the 'hood did?  And that Angel and Sinclair might be lookin' for those kids, too?"

          Mac closed his eyes and moaned.  "You're right."

          "I just want the killing to stop, before any more lives are ruined."

          "You're right.  I'm just tired.  I wasn't thinking."

          Hines laughed.  "For a tourist, you're pretty good about handing out an apology."

          "I've had practice," Mac said.  "But you have a quota."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Carson stood at the foot of Manny's bed, watching the various pieces of machinery carrying on the man's life.  Why had she let MacGyver talk her into getting involved with this individual?  It was easy when she dealt with the groups the Foundation sent her, easy to look past their faces.

          She sighed.  And all it took was one read through the man's file.  When was she going to learn?  Wasn't it enough to lose her husband and son?  Not to mention her career and nearly her own life?

          Carson paced to the window, looking out on the green, flower-spotted garden courtyard filling the center area of the hospital's circular construction.  It was beautiful; peaceful and healing.  Ambulatory patients walked along the paths or sat in the comfortable chairs scattered about under the trees.

          "You know," she said aloud to the unconscious man, "I've got to be crazy.  You've been placed in the custody of a deranged woman, Mr. Lopez.  I swore to myself, no more involvements, and before I even introduce myself, you stand there and let somebody shoot you."  She laughed shakily.  "Not a bright move.

          "But I did some stupid things in the field, too.  Tony understood.  He was my husband, a research scientist for the Phoenix Foundation.  He used to tease me, say he was Q and I was 007.  I never took leave until I found out I was pregnant.  Tony junior was a great baby…"  She trailed off, brushing the tears off her face.  "He looked just like his father.

          "I wasn't sure if I should go back to work, I mean, there was so much to do with the baby, and Tony and I were like kids again around him ourselves."  She turned away from the window, a young boy walking in the garden with one of the nurses bringing back too many painful memories.

          Walking to the head of the bed, Carson stopped, then reached out and arranged the blanket as she spoke.  "It was a fluke.  A driver lost control of his car, hit a second car, and they hit Tony.  He was alive when the paramedics reached him, trying to find out about the baby, calling for me…"

          She took Manny's limp hand in her own and squeezed.  The faintest hint of a reply went unnoticed as she continued, "I was in the field.  The mission went sour, I was shot, nearly died.  When I finally was conscious enough to get the news it was three weeks after they'd died.  Three weeks.

          "Tony's parents handled the funeral.  I missed that, too.  When they told me, all I wanted to do was disappear, just stop living, bang, like that…  But I couldn't.  I gave up in my heart, but in my mind I kept hanging on to the pain, the anger, anything I could find.  You're listening to your heart, Manny, but you have to listen to your head, too.  You still have a granddaughter who needs you, and friends.  Mac and RT care about you.  You don't know me, but damn it, I want a chance to find out for myself if you're the guy they tell me you are.  I'll try having a friend again if you'll stick around to help me."

          The door brushing open stilled her monologue and Carson smiled shakily as MacGyver joined her.  "How's he doing?" he asked.

          "The same.  Any news on who shot him?"

          "Not yet."  Walking over to drop into the chair near the window, he ran his fingers through his wind-tangled hair.  "The police think it might be members of the Rolling Thunder gang."

          Carson thought for a moment.  "Coco's old gang?"

          Mac nodded.

          "But I thought he left when he joined R.T.'s center."

          "He did.  It's not impossible, but I have my doubts.  Ahh, it could have been a random drive-by, for that matter," he said, scrubbing a hand over his forehead.  A dull nagging headache had settled in, adding to his discomfort.

          "You're just Mr. Negativity today, aren't you?"

          "I'm just worried," Mac said, sliding back in the chair and tilting his head back against the seat.

          She sat in the second chair, watching her friend.  "How long have you known Manny?" she asked, hoping she could get Mac talking.  Maybe that would help.

          "I met him in Vietnam, before Hines took over the unit.  We were involved in setting up relocation villages.  We were real tight for about three months."

          "Long time over there," Carson whispered.

          Mac's eyes widened for a moment before he remembered Carson had been a nurse, and Tony a green beret.  "You and Tony ever talk about it?"

          She nodded.  "We'd both get nightmares sometimes."

          "All Manny talked about was going home and becoming a cop.  Did you know his father was one of the first Hispanic detectives promoted to sergeant?"  She shook her head.  "He was killed in the line of duty when Manny was twelve…"  MacGyver stopped, listening for a repeat of the waver in the steady rhythm of the machinery but there was nothing.  He looked to Carson, but she just looked back.  _Must be my imagination_ , he concluded.

          "Did you stay in touch?"

          "Sort of.  I was busy.  He joined the Force.  I was at the wedding, and Marcia's baptism.  Then Pete hired me for the Phoenix Foundation and it was hard to keep up."

          "So you're feeling a little guilty about this, huh?  Thinking if you'd been around more, maybe you would've seen the signs?"

          Mac leveled Carson with an intense look.  "Since when have you taken up psychology, Ms. Daniels?"

          She smiled.  "I'm an expert on guilt, Mac, not psychology.  I can spot it a mile off, and you're wading in about shoulder-deep right now."

          He nodded.  "Maybe."

          "Don't you think it's time you got some rest?" she asked, reaching over to pat him on the knee.

          MacGyver nodded.  He'd stay at Manny's place.  It was close enough to the youth center and Summit that the commute wouldn't be bad.  "What about you?"

          "I have to get home," Carson said, standing.  "There are horses to feed and a new friend to get to know.  Call me if anything happens."

          "I will."  He watched her until she reached the door.  "Carson?"

          "Yeah?" she asked, turning back to look at him.

          "I'm glad you're here."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Dr. Amelia Poe walked down the corridor of the critical care unit, her arm through Dr. Kauffman's.  "Arnold, it is good to see you again.  Summit agrees with you."

          He smiled down at the Oriental woman.  She was the perfect stereotype of the older Chinese woman: small, almost frail, and her face ageless.  Thick black hair was wound up in a bun at the back of her head, free of any gray that might help him pinpoint how old she really was.  Not that it mattered.  He was no spring chicken himself anymore.  And she was the best trauma specialist in the U.S. and Canada.

          "It's been like starting over, Amelia.  The pressure's gone, and everyone here is so open to all the possibilities.  I feel like I'm truly a healer for the first time in many years."

          She squeezed his arm affectionately.  "Then you have done the right thing, coming here, creating this place.  I've heard nothing but good things myself."

          "We'll always have a spot for you on the staff," Kauffman teased her.  Dr. Poe wasn't on the staff of any major hospital, or small private alternative center like Summit.  She was in private practice, and did consultations wherever her skills were required.

          She chuckled softly.  "I will remember that when it's time for me to stop all this flying here and there."

          "Amelia, that will be long after I've retired!"  Kauffman's smile faded as they reached the entrance to Manny's room.

          The curtains were half-closed across the glass walls that allowed the staff to visually monitor the patients in the semi-circular ward.  Kauffman glanced around.  The duty nurse was gone.  _Strange_ , he thought.

          Opening the door to Manny's room for Dr. Poe, he caught a glimpse of movement in the room.  Curiosity and concern overriding any hesitation, Kauffman stepped in to find two young men in gang colors, bandannas covering their faces, standing at the foot of the injured man's bed.

          "What do you think you're doing?" Kauffman demanded.

          The two youths turned on the doctor, the natural sunlight in the room reflecting off the switchblade one of the boys carried.

          "Shit, man!" the other said.  "I told you just do it."

          "Get back, old man," the one with the knife said, while his companion moved to the window that opened onto the garden.

          "Come on, let's go, man," the unarmed boy pleaded.

          "We gotta zap him.  You heard the man, we're as good as dead if we don't off the cop."

          "Shut up!" the boy yelled, lunging forward to grab the sleeve of the knife handler's flannel shirt.  "Come on!"

          Looking from Kauffman and Dr. Poe to the unconscious detective, then to his companion, the boy nodded.  They bolted for the open window and disappeared into the garden.

          Kauffman grabbed for the bedside phone, pressing out 911.  "This is Dr. Arnold Kauffman, we need the police at the Summit Center immediately.  Two gang members just tried to kill one of my patients."

          Dr. Poe listened while Kauffman gave the dispatcher the address and a description of the boys, but she was watching the injured man.  The corners of his eyes lost the tension that had wrinkled them earlier, and his heartbeat fell off slightly.  He had been aware of the events.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "MacGyver, we have to talk," Hines said as he stalked into Manny's garage where Mac was working to clean up the remains of his house painting.  The place was going on the market, and MacGyver was determined to get the most he could for Manny.

          "What's up?  You been to the hospital?"

          "Yeah, I've been there.  Two gang boys tried to kill Manny."

          "What?" MacGyver asked, straightening.  "Is he okay?  Was he hurt?"

          Hines raised his hands.  "Dr. Kauffman and the specialist they brought in walked in on them.  The kids panicked and ran."

          "Doesn't sound like the Tough Boys," MacGyver said, his voice low and testing.  The retired marine still wasn't completely convinced some of his own kids might not be responsible, regardless of what he might say.

          "I know," the black man stated firmly.

          "Give me a hand with this stuff, will you?"

          Hines nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The knock was soft, and at – MacGyver checked the radio alarm – three in the morning, it was no wonder he nearly missed it.  Rolling out of bed, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt before going to the door that opened into the house from the garage.

          Standing along the wall, just in case, he called, "Yeah?"

          "MacGyver?"

          "Who wants to know?"

          "It's me.  Angel."

          Mac reached out, pulling the heavy steal security bar up so he could open the door. Angel and Sinclair stood in the shadows, trying to hide.  "Well, come on in since you're already here."  The young men scampered into the house, watching to make sure the security bar was firmly back in place.  "What's up?"

          "We know who shot Manny," Angel said.

          "And now they're lookin' for us," Sinclair added.

          "You want some coffee?" Mac asked, heading for the kitchen, the two following closely in his wake. 

          "No, man, we want _you_ to talk to the police."

          "Angel, you know it doesn't work that way," he said, going about setting up the Mr. Coffee.  While he waited for the dark brown liquid to finish brewing, Mac eased himself up on the counter.  "How'd you find this out?"  The two exchanged guilty looks.  "Come on.  I can't help you if you're not up front with me."

          Angel nodded.  "We were there when Manny got it."

          "Oh?"

          The teen became defensive.  "Yeah.  Look, I know you and Hines think we left Manny hangin', but it ain't so."

          "Why?  Manny's a cop.  He got Coco killed."

          "Yeah, he was the man, but Manny, he… he—"

          "He cared?" MacGyver finished.

          "Yeah," Angel said, his voice soft.  "Look, Coco and the rest of us, we were doing things a long time before Manny came.  He just showed us more tricks, you know?"  Mac nodded.  "When it all fell apart it took a while to sort it all out."

          "It wasn't Manny's fault," Sinclair said.  "We knew what we was doin'."

          "Why didn't you tell Manny that?  He thought you blamed him for Coco's death."

          "No," Angel shook his head.  "I mean, at first, yeah, but 'Clair's right.  We knew what we were doing was dangerous.  But it was right."

          "So, you were at the courthouse?" Mac asked.

          Angel nodded.

          "We heard Rollin' Thunder was goin' to do Manny," Sinclair explained.

          "But we talked 'em out of it," Angel added quickly.

          "Doesn't look like they listened," Mac said.

          "They did.  Those two weren't home boys," Angel argued.

          MacGyver pulled down two cups and poured.  "Do you know who they were?" he asked, handing the cups to the boys.

          Angel nodded.  "It took some time, but we found them."

          "And?"

          "They're dead," Sinclair said.

          "Ah, man," the Foundation man said, his frustration evident.

          "We didn't do it!" Angel snapped.  "We went lookin' for them.  When we got there, they were _already_ dead."

          "Did you report this?"

          "A-non-o-mus," Sinclair explained.

          "Who were they?"

          "From east of here.  Black Knife boys.  Word is, the big man hired them and when they didn't off Manny in the hospital they had 'a pay," the black youth explained.

          Angel nodded his agreement with the assessment.

          "Big man?" Mac questioned the Hispanic.

          "Trevors, man.  He did it all from jail."

          Mac felt the news settle into the pit of his stomach.  Of course.  Mr. Cocaine himself.  With Manny out of the way the Grand Jury might let him walk.  The briefest notion Manny had been right, that the only way to stop a man like Trevors was to kill him, flashed through MacGyver's mind.  "Does he know you're onto him?"

          "I— I think so," Angel said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "What in the world…?" MacGyver said to himself as he walked into Manny's room.  Incense was burning, and soft music escaped from a portable CD player.  And, although he liked the New Age sound, he wasn't at all sure what it was supposed to be doing for his friend.  _Stimulating his brain to keep up activity_ , he concluded.  Manny had slipped into a coma eighteen hours ago.

          Dr. Poe sat watching the unconscious man, a considering expression on her face.  Mac watched her reach out and applied pressure to several points on the injured man's body.

          "How is he?" he finally interrupted.

          "He is trying very hard to convince himself to die," she replied.

          "I'm afraid he isn't the only one."

          Turning to study MacGyver, Dr. Poe noted the concern in the man's posture. "Oh?"

          "Edward Trevors put a contract out on Manny.  We're going to have to set up some security here."

          "I see."  Under her hands, Dr. Poe felt Manny respond to the information.  "Mr. MacGyver, if you would be so kind as to remain here with your friend, I would like to get a cup of tea."

          "Huh," he hedged, shifting uncomfortably.

          "Please?"

          "All right," he agreed.  "If you bring me back some tea, too."

          She smiled and patted MacGyver on the arm as she passed.  "I'd be happy to.  Talk to him," she instructed.  "He can hear you."

          MacGyver stood just inside the door for a moment, then proceeded to the bed and sank down into the chair Dr. Poe had vacated.  Running a hand over his face, Mac sighed.

          "The Doc says you can hear me, Manny, so I want you to listen.  Trevors is behind this.  You can't let him win, not now.  With you out of the picture, he's going to walk."  Mac rested a hand on the wounded man's arm.  "Maybe you were right.  Maybe it would be better to just take people like that out."

          One of the monitors wavered and MacGyver's grip tightened.  "Listen to me, Manny.  Angel and Sinclair and Hector, they found the ones who did this.  Those boys care about you, more than you know.  And they don't blame you.  They're feeling guilty about letting you down, letting Coco down.  Trevors knows about them.  He's trying to kill them, too.  You can't let him win, Manny."

          A second waver, longer than the first, echoed through the room.  Dr. Poe joined Mac, resting a hand on his shoulder.  "I think it's time we tried some laying on of hands."

          "What?" Mac asked.  "Look, Dr. Poe, I know there are some physical—"

          "Mr. MacGyver, what Manny needs right now is positive energy," she said, handing Mac a cup of tea.  "He needs hope.  If you're going to be skeptical, the least you can do is maintain a few positive thoughts."

          Mac felt like he'd been slapped.  There was something in the woman's words that resonated deep inside himself.  He'd always been practical, skeptical of phenomena that couldn't be explained in real terms… hadn't he?  Looking up at Amelia Poe's face, he saw his mother.  A truth he'd buried for too long surfaced and threatened to sweep him away.  Standing quickly, he brushed past the psychologist and out the door.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Carson nearly collided with MacGyver as she rounded the corner of the hospital.  The distraught expression on the man's face caused her to follow him into the garden and finally to the shade of a large maple where Mac collapsed, leaning back against the rough trunk, he eyes closed, fighting for control.

          "Are you okay?" she asked, dropping down to sit next to him.  When he didn't answer, she scooted closer.  "Is it Manny?"

          "No," Mac said, his voice catching.  Forcing his eyes open, he saw the woman's concerned expression and raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

          Carson felt her eyes burn with tears and leaned over to take the man into her arms.  "Mac, what's wrong?"

          He started to speak, but the words collided in his throat, jamming.  He sucked in a deep breath and tried again.  On the third attempt he managed to whisper, "I remembered—"

          "Remembered what?" Carson prompted, one hand stroking through the longish hair.

          Mac took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled away enough to motion Carson to sit down with him under the tree.  Holding tightly on to her hand he began his story.  "About a week before my mother had her stroke, I had a dream.  I was at home, the phone rang and it was her—"

          "Your mother?"

          He nodded.  "She said that she was sick, and that I had to come home.  But I couldn't for some reason.  I told her everything would be fine.  She said no, that if I didn't come home now, I wouldn't see her again because she was going to die."

          "And?" Carsen said softly.

          "Six days later she had a massive stroke.  I was out of the country, but Pete got word to me.  The doctor wanted to try some holistic treatment on her, but it sounded like they were just trying to get more money out of the insurance company.  I said no.  I told her I wasn't sure I could make it back in time for Christmas—"  He broke off, shaking his head.

          "And she died?"  He nodded again.  "Mac, it's not your fault."

          "If I'd paid attention to the dream I wouldn't have taken the assignment.  I would have gone home, and been there when it happened."

          She didn't know what to say, her own guilt still something to be battled every day.  Hugging the man to her, Carson just held on.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "How's it going?"

          Hines opened the door to his home just far enough to allow MacGyver to enter.  Inside, Angel and Sinclair sat on the couch, their eyes still nervous.  "The undercover guy's watching the house, but they're not going to fool anybody.  What's going on, MacGyver?  I thought we agreed to see Manny in the morning.  I called the hospital and they said there hasn't been any change, so why are you draggin' us out of bed at one in the morning?"

          "Trevor's going to have to make a move sooner or later," Mac said, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

          "Tell me something I _don't_ know."

          Mac looked away from the two ex-gang members' expectant faces.  "All right, but _don't_ ask me to explain.  I had a dream.  I know that's—"

          The phone rang, interrupting.  Hines answered.  "Yeah?  Damn…  Right…  Yeah, thanks."  He hung up.  "More bad news."

          "Oh?"

          "Seems those Black Knife deaths are being blamed on Rolling Thunder.  It's going to spark off some reprisals.  This stupid rivalry goes back to _my_ days on the street."

          "Great."

          R.T. Looked at the two young men.  "Well?  It might be dangerous."

          "Screw dangerous," Sinclair said.  "Let's go."

          "Angel?"

          "I'm right behind you, jefe."

          MacGyver followed Hines and the boys in his old pickup, trying not to think, but the avalanche of "what-ifs" that had assaulted him since Dr. Poe's comment would not abate. He forced them back, studying the street instead.  What tipped him that the black Firebird pulling in behind Hines was after them, he couldn't determine, but he did know.  Pressing the accelerator down as far as it would go, Mac bore down on the vehicle just as the barrel of a gun slid out the passenger window.

          The first silenced shot shattered the rear windshield of Hines' car, and it veered wildly into the empty oncoming lane.  The second shattered a store window across the street before Mac's truck caught the car's rear fender at an angle, spinning the Firebird nearly 180 degrees.  The impact threw MacGyver forward.  The seatbelt stopped him from striking the windshield, but his forehead collided with the steering wheel, opening a cut over his right eye.

          One of the gang members in the Firebird scrambled out and ran over to the pickup. Mac was slumped over the wheel, the majority of his face covered with blood.  The teenager ran back for the car, convinced the lunatic was dead.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The disorientation eased, and MacGyver strained to make out where he was. A woman's voice called to him, but he couldn't make out the exact words.

          "Carson?" he questioned.

          Wandering off in the direction of the voice, he groped blindly in the blackness.  _Where the heck am I?_

          "Carson?" he called again.

          "Mac?" replied a male voice.

          "Manny?"  Now _that_ was impossible.  He bumped into someone in the darkness.  Stepping back and squinting, Mac discovered it was the dead boy.  "Coco?"

          "Come on, man, we ain't got all night."

          "Wait a minute," Mac said.  "You're dead."

          "You go to college to get that smart, Cuz?"

          "I'm dreaming," MacGyver said more to himself than Coco.  "That has to be it."

          "No, man, you're bleedin' all over your truck is what you're doin'."

          The real dream Mac had had came back, along with the drive from Hines' house, and the black Firebird.  "Where am I?" he asked, fear suddenly crowding in.

          "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, man."  Reaching out, Coco grabbed MacGyver's jacket sleeve and hauled him along until they reached a door.  "There.  You gotta go through there.  Manny's waiting."

          "Manny?" Mac said, reaching out to grab the young black man's wrist.

          "Cuz, either you're slow or you're stupid.  He's in-between, man.  Not dead, not alive.  You gotta take him back to the livin' side."

          "It's not time for Daddy to die," said a young woman, stepping up to join them.

          Mac felt his jaw fall open.  "Marcia?"

          She nodded.  "Please, Mr. MacGyver.  Help him.  My baby needs him.  It's not time for him to come."

          "But how?" Mac asked, his confusion growing.  This was just simply impossible.  Wasn't it?  "I don't know what to do.  I don't even know if I believe any of this!"

          The pair looked concerned, unsure what to do next.

          "MacGyver?" echoed a voice.  "Is that you?"

          The call came from the other side of the door.  It was Manny.  The fear reasserted itself.  Mac swallowed and took a deep breath.  Whatever was happening, he had to try and help his friend.  He couldn't let Manny slip away like he did his mother.  Reaching out, he gripped the doorknob.

          "Thank you," Marcia whispered.

          "Good luck, cuz."

          Rotating the cold knob, Mac felt the latch give, the door swinging open into a familiar warehouse.  The cannery.  The faintest echo of an older woman's voice helped him step across.  "Ice cream, sweetheart."

          Gunfire greeted him as the door fell shut, shimmering and finally disappearing into a wall of very solid looking crates.  Mac shivered.  A hand reached up, grabbed his jacket, and pulled him down.

          "Hi."

          MacGyver stared at the man sitting next to him.  "Manny, what's going on?"

          "Don't ask me, man, it's your dream," the detective said, his gaze darting over the general chaos of the building.  He paused and met MacGyver's confused expression.  "But I'm glad you're here."

          Mac considered that.  If it was his dream, shouldn't he have control over it?  He willed the gunman to go away, then started to rise.  The ex-detective snagged him a second time.  "What are you doing?  Someone out there is shooting at us."

          "It's my dream, remember?  I'm seeing what sort of control I have over it."

          As soon as Mac's head cleared the barricade of crates bullets slammed into the wall across from them.  He dropped back down.

          "Not very good, I'd say," Manny commented dryly, earning himself a withering glare from the Foundation man.

          "This is nuts!" Mac said, scrambling around so he could steal a glance safely over the top of the wooden crates.

          "Tell me about it," Lopez murmured in reply.

          MacGyver swung back around and pressed his back against the crates.  "Okay," he said calmly.  "I was on my way to the hospital, there was a car, a black Firebird, and two guys.  They were going to shoot Angel and Sinclair."

          "Are they okay?" Manny asked, the genuine concern in his voice causing Mac to look over at him.

          "I think so," he said.

          "Then what happened?" Manny prompted.

          "I rammed a car, hit my head…  I must be unconscious.  Dreaming."  A smile began to form on Mac's face.  "That's it.  I'm dre—"

          Another burst of gunfire forced the two men lower.  "Fine, you're dreaming.  But do you think you can dream up a way out of here?" the ex-detective asked, plaintively.

          MacGyver forced himself to look around the area a second time, this time his gaze settling on a long pole with a hook at the end.  Looking up at the ceiling, he checked the arrangement of the scaffolding.  "Maybe," he replied.

          Manny watched as Mac pulled the pole in without alerting whoever was shooting at them.  "Now what?"

          "I can't do this alone, Manny," Mac said, grabbing the coil of rope he'd been leaning against.  "If you can distract the guy—"

          "Coil of rope in the face?"

          "Yep.  I'm going to snag that line over there," Mac said, shrugging a shoulder in the shooter's direction.

          Manny looked, then nodded, understanding MacGyver's intentions.  "Humpty-dumpty."

          "I hope so.  Ready?"

          Manny maneuvered into position, then nodded.

          "Go!" Mac said.

          Manny stood, throwing the rope with a yell.  Mac moved, trapping the line with the hook and drawing it to him.  With one strong pull the scaffolding fell.  Reaching out to pat the ex-detective on the arm, Mac grinned.  "My dreams are too easy."

          "Speak for yourself.  I've never been in somebody else's dream," Manny responded, a crooked smile cutting across his face.

          From somewhere Mac heard Dr. Poe's voice saying "I think it's time we tried some laying on of hands."  He smiled.  "That's it!"

          "What?"

          "We have to get to the hospital."

          "Why?" Manny asked, incredulous.  "Are you hurt?"

          "Because that's where you are," Mac explained, slapping the ex-detective on the back.

          "Huh, MacGyver, I hate to say it, but, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm right _here_ ," he said, pointing to the firm ground they were standing on.  "With you, at the cannery."

          " _You_ are," Mac explained, "but Anthony M. Lopez is in the Summit hospital.  By now Hines and the kids will be there.  Carson should be there—"

          "Carson?"

          "Someone who's going to be very important to your future.  You're in her custody."  Manny looked surprised but didn't say anything.  "Dr. Poe will probably be there, too, since it was her idea."

          "What idea?  Mac, none of this makes any sense to me," the Hispanic said, shaking his head in confusion.

          "Hang in there.  It doesn't really make any sense to me, either."  Easing himself around, Mac peeked out over the crates a second time.  No gunfire interrupted.  He smiled.  "I think I'm getting the hang of this.  Come on."

          "Where?" Manny asked, following the man out onto the dock.

          "Summit," Mac said, pausing in the warm sunshine.

          "How are we going to get there?  Drive?  Fly?  I mean, we're not really here, right?" Manny challenged, his tone slightly caustic.

          MacGyver looked around at the man, they were both damned good questions.  Too bad he didn't have an answer.  Then the air around the shimmered. "Well, I guess that solves that dilemma," he said, looking around at the Summit gardens surrounding them.

          "I hope to God you did that," Manny commented, his voice sounding strained and shaky.

          "Me, too."

          Together the two men walked into the building.  It was still nighttime, the halls deserted, patients sleeping, and only a few nurses still busy with the nightly chores of the hospital.  MacGyver led the way to Manny's room.  They paused outside the door.  Everyone he expected to see was there: Hines, Angel, Sinclair, Carson, and Dr. Poe.  He looked over at his friend and sympathized with the look on his face as Manny stared at his body.

          "That's me?" he asked MacGyver, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

          "I think so," was the gentle reply.

          "I don't look too good, do I?"

          Mac rested a hand on Manny's back.  "I've seen you look better."

          Angel spoke to the comatose man.  Next to MacGyver, Manny stood, tears running freely down his face as the young men forgave him for their friend's death, accepting their roles, and asking the man to wake up.

          "There's been too much dying, Manny," Angel said softly.  "Not you, too, man.  I never had no respect for the cops, but you were different.  Even if what you, what _we_ did was wrong, it was just because we couldn't think of no other way. If you wake up, maybe we can."

          Mac's hand moved to rest on Manny's shoulder, squeezing.  The policeman shook his head.  "He doesn't understand. It was my fault."

          "Not alone, Manny.  It's more complicated than that."

          "Daddy?"

          Manny's head snapped up, his face drained of color.  "Marcia?"

          "Daddy, please, you have to go back.  Alisa needs you.  Please don't leave her all alone."

          "Baby?"  He stepped past the threshold into the room, Mac following him.  "Are you okay?"

          Marcia nodded.  "I know now how much you love me.  I'm sorry, Daddy.  I'm so sorry."

          "Baby, it wasn't you.  I wasn't there—"

          "Quit tryin' to sound like some chump with a righteous attitude," said a voice from behind them.  Before either man could turn around, Coco shoved his way past the pair and walked over to Marcia.

          "I'm not being righteous," Manny argued.

          "You're makin' it sound like you're the only one who was ever hurt.  Well, you ain't.  We all lost somebody and made bad decisions."

          Manny looked away, his cheeks bright with embarrassment.

          "We can't be perfect," Coco continued.  "We just got to do our best.  I started the Tough Boys so we could take back what was ours.  Maybe it got a little out of hand, but it don't make us bad.  Just didn't have a better way, that's all."

          Manny walked over to the two youngsters, reaching out to draw them into a hug.

          MacGyver watched for a moment, then his attention shifted to the others in the room who were unaware of their presence.  Hines and the two boys were standing on the far side of Manny's bed.  Carson was at the foot, and Dr. Poe was closest to Mac.  She was talking to Manny, but MacGyver couldn't hear what she was saying.  His forehead wrinkled.  Something felt wrong.  No, out of place.

          "Coco, Marcia, come here," he said.  Along with Manny they rejoined MacGyver.

          "What?" the young woman asked.

          "I know this might sound strange, but I think I know how to help Manny get back to his body."

          "Mac, this is my daughter.  I don't want—"

          "Daddy, you have to.  Alisa's waiting for you."

          He looked at the girl, her brown eyes full of fear.  She didn't understand.  They had already taken the baby away.  Still, he couldn't hurt her.  His lips, pressing into a thin line of pain, were set.  He nodded.

          "Marcia, Coco, stand on this side of the bed," Mac directed, positioning them on either side of Dr. Poe.

          "What about me?" Manny asked.

          Mac chewed on his lower lip as he looked the group over.  "Between Carson and Marcia," he decided.

          Manny took the position.

          "Now what?" the girl asked.

          Another good question.  _Why don't I have answers here?_ he asked himself.  He had nothing to work with.  There were no gadgets, no toys, no scraps he could use to get them out of this.  Mac's gaze traveled over the room.  "I think it's time to try a little lying on hands.  Reach out and touch Manny," he directed.

          "I can't reach him from here," Coco said.

          MacGyver smiled.  "That Manny," he corrected, nodding at the unconscious man in the bed.

          "I don't know about this," the conscious version replied.

          "Trust me," Mac said.

          The three reached out.  Nothing.

          Now what?  _Think_ , MacGyver, he commanded himself.  He watched as Dr. Poe spoke to the others, and they touched Manny as well.

          "Yes!" he said.  But how did she know?

          "But, I'm— MacGyver!"

          Mac looked at his friend only to find him literally fading before his eyes.  "It's okay, Manny.  You're just going home."

          "Marcia?"

          "Take good care of Alisa, Daddy.  I love you."

          "I love you too, baby."

          "I'll be watchin', my man.  You keep the kids straight, or you and me's gonna dance when you get over here to stay."

          Manny nodded, the tears bright on the rapidly fading face.  "MacGyver, are you…?  Are you dead?"

          Mac opened his mouth to reply, but he still didn't have an answer.  Manny vanished.

          The tugging sensation began as MacGyver tried to touch Manny's unconscious form. As it grew stronger he looked up, confused and frightened.  The black eyes of Dr. Poe stared back at him, smiling.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The smell of disinfectant alerted MacGyver that he was in the hospital, the physical one.  Forcing his eyes open he found Dr. Kauffman smiling down at him.

          "Well, it's about time, son."

          "Time?"

          "You've been laying around dreaming while the rest of us worried about you."

          "That's the truth," concurred a feminine voice.

          "Carson?"  The woman's face replaced the doctor's in Mac's limited field of fuzzy vision.  "What happened?"

          "Seems you were playing hero again.  You blew the gig to get Angel and Sinclair when you decided to play bumper cars.  Couldn't you think of anything better than that?  Mac, I think you're slipping."

          "Everyone okay?"

          "They're fine.  They saw what happened, and circled back for you.  You took a real good knock to the head, but—"

          "You'll be fine," Dr. Kauffman interrupted.  "Barring a nasty headache for a couple of days."

          "Manny?"

          Carson's smiled bloomed full across her face.  "Mac, you _won't_ believe it.  He came out of the coma this morning, just a few minutes ago, in fact.  And you know what the first thing he said was?"

          "What?" Mac asked, dreading the answer.

          "He asked if _you_ were dead.  Weird, huh?"

          "Yeah… weird," MacGyver responded, a chill working its way up his spine.  "Very weird."

          "Look, you need to get some more sleep," Dr. Kauffman told him.

          "I'm going to go back and see how Manny's doing," Carson said, leaning over to plant an affectionate kiss on his nose.  "I'll check in on you later this morning."

          He nodded.  This is impossible, he thought, closing his eyes.  In the blackness Coco and Marcia were waiting.

          "Thank you," Manny's daughter said, stepping up to give Mac a hug.

          "Huh, you're welcome," he told her, shaking his head, but returning the gesture with vigor.         

          "Keep it cool, my man," Coco said, taking the girl's hand.

          Mac nodded, and gave the pair a half-hearted wave.  "I'm nuts.  I've got to be nuts…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Manny stood in the driveway of Carson's Malibu home.  Beyond the house the Pacific broke softly on the beach, the gulls just beginning to stir for another day of panhandling the tourists and surfers.  A large stable lay off to the right and Manny heard the horses complaining that their breakfast was late.

          "MacGyver, what am I doing here?" Manny asked warily.

          Mac smiled at the man as he jumped up to sit on the dented, but functional hood of his pickup.  "The judge put you in the custody of a duly appointed representative of the Phoenix Foundation, remember?"

          "I realize that, but that still doesn't explain why I'm _here_."

          "Carson Daniels is a Phoenix Foundation representative, and since you don't have a job, I thought you might as well work for her."

          "Doing what?" Manny asked, his hands coming to rest defiantly on his hips.

          "Carson runs training programs for the Foundation.  She's also starting up a program for street kids.  They'll come here to learn about the horses, and get some pointers on life at the same time."

          The ex-detective looked worried.  "MacGyver, I know you mean well, but I don't think—"

          "Give it a chance, Manny.  That's all we're asking.  Just a month.  Then, if you don't like it, fine, I'll help you find a place of your own.  It's only a forty-five minute commute to R.T.'s center.  And I understand a couple of his kids are signed up as mentors for this program…  Angel, Sinclair, and Hector, I think he said."

          Manny sighed, trying to look annoyed, but having a difficult time of it.  Seeing Marcia while he was in the coma seemed to have freed the man of at least part of his overwhelming guilt, and the sessions with Dr. Poe were easing the rest.  MacGyver was sure he was on the right track.  All Manny needed was to get involved with something where he could make a positive difference and he'd be fine.

          "All right, I'll give it a try.  I have to admit, I enjoyed Carson's visits.  It was nice having someone who understood… about losing someone."

          "She's a great lady, and she'll be a good friend."

          Manny nodded.  Right now he needed all the friends he could find.  Maybe he could make a difference after all.  He wasn't going to let Marcia down a second time.  A small stab of pain struck him.  But what about Alisa?

          "What?" Mac asked, wondering if the man's hip was causing him pain.  The specialist had told them Manny's limp would disappear in a few months, and a regular routine of physical therapy and holistic treatments at Summit was restoring him to full health faster than Mac had thought possible.  He had some reevaluating to do once Manny was settled.

          "There's something you haven't told me about."

          Mac raised his hands in a questioning gesture, inviting the man to ask.

          "How's Alisa?"

          "I'm not the one to ask."  Mac watched Manny's eyebrows plunge into a half-angry, half-concerned canyon.  "But I think you can ask Carson," he said nodding behind the detective.

          Manny turned, feeling his throat tighten.  Carson was exiting the barn, a baby tote on her back, and Alisa's small dark-haired head sleeping on her shoulder. Tears filled his eyes as they drew closer, and reaching out with trembling fingers he gently traced a line across Alisa's soft cheek.  There was no tremor.  He looked up, surprised.

          Carson smiled, her own eyes full.  "The doctors at Summit have been treating Alisa, too.  A foster mom can't do everything by herself."

          "Foster mother?" Manny echoed, disbelieving.  "But—"

          "The court placed Alisa in Child Protective Services.  It seems placing babies like Alisa can be a little difficult," Mac explained, sliding off the hood of the car and putting an arm around Manny's shoulders.  "But when they found someone like Carson, who was willing to take her, well, they were more than willing to put the baby in her custody.  I mean, it made sense, since her grandfather was, too.  Wouldn't you agree?"

          Manny let the tears fall down his cheeks.  "You'd do this for us?"

          Carson shook her head.  "For _all_ of us, Manny.  It's time I let Tony and Tony junior rest and get on with my life.  Maybe we can all help each other?"

          Manny nodded, his throat too tight to say anything.  MacGyver watched, feeling happier than he had in a long, long time.  Looking up into the brightening sky, he smiled and fought back his own tears.  _I love you, Mom_ , he thought.

          As the surf broke again and Carson invited them in for breakfast, MacGyver was sure he heard a whispered, "I love you, too, baby."

The End


End file.
